


Silly Little Labels

by Geritashipper123



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Bisexual Ianto Jones, Bisexuality, Discussions of Homophobia, Labels, M/M, Me? Pressing my experiences on my characters?, Q slur, its more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geritashipper123/pseuds/Geritashipper123
Summary: Jack snorted, “since when do you care? You don’t even use a label.”“Actually, if you’d bothered to ask before propositioning me, you’d know I’m very secure when I call myself bisexual,” Ianto said suddenly and felt more than saw Jack gape at him in surprise.





	Silly Little Labels

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last night at midnight instead of sleeping and I am blatantly unashamed of it. Happy 20biteen everyone! 
> 
> So back when I was a young LGBT phleb, I was desperate for a proper label. I did the whole spectrum, I even thought I was Demisexual and Asexual for a while. But I found my home safe in the Pansexual world after some beautiful person defined it as the capability to be attracted to all genders, and I was just like "holy SHIT"
> 
> Is this fic me imprinting my experiences on Ianto Jones? Yes, yes it is. 
> 
> Dedicated to Freddy Mercury, whose label has been erased from history. He was Bisexual, yo.

Ianto had a headache. 

It was one of those creeping, slow-developing tension headaches that he hated. He’d gotten them for as long as he could remember- he’d been the only one in his 5th-year class who had to go to the nurse for migraines sometimes. He was certain it was because his father slammed his head against something one too many times. 

Rhiannon used to tell him Mam had dropped him one day, and he’d never been sure if she was joking. 

The headache was probably being caused by multiple factors- the fact that he hadn’t gotten a solid night’s sleep in 8 days, the fact that he was really hungry, the fact that it was winter,

Jack. Jack definitely was a contributing factor. 

They were at Ianto’s flat, for the first time in almost two weeks. Ianto was in the kitchen, spooning out ice cream for jack to have dessert after their dinner. (No ice cream for him though- it would do nothing for his headache. Ianto had a biscuit for himself, and a cup of decaf for before bed) 

Jack was in the living room ranting at the TV- which was running a segment on gay rights in Ireland. 

Jack was on his “labels are stupid” soapbox again, and Ianto heaved a sigh. 

Dinner had been pleasant, and Ianto had been hoping for some pre-bed fun before getting a solid 8 hours for the first time in over a week. He’d been excited for it even. 

But now, Jack was going off about quaint 21st-century boxes and categories, and Ianto wanted to punch him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what Jack was getting at- the world would be a better place if they stopped caring about labels and started caring about the person beneath the label. 

But… 

Ianto gritted his teeth as Jack got louder, and decided that Jack could rant about labels another day when he didn’t have a slowly forming migraine. 

Grabbing his coffee and Jack’s ice cream and a spoon, Ianto went back out into the living space, set the items down on the coffee table, grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. 

“Hey, I was watching that!” Jack protested, but Ianto pinned him with a dry glare, “no, you were shouting about the idiocy of 21st-century humans again, and my head hurts. So stop, or I  _ won’t  _ give you the blowjob I was planning on giving you before I go to sleep.” 

Other lovers would grow sheepish, apologize for aggravating their partner’s head and offer to get them painkillers. 

Jack, being Jack, grinned and said: “I get a blowjob?”

“If you stop shouting,” Ianto said, offering him the ice cream bowl and spoon, which Jack accepted gratefully. 

Ianto sighed and sipped his coffee, closing his eyes and rubbing his sinuses with one hand. He almost jumped when another, much warmer hand came up to rub the back of his neck. He glanced over at Jack. 

Jack was watching him with an intrigued look in his eye, ice cream balanced precariously on his knee while he used the hand not rubbing Ianto’s neck to eat it. Ianto sighed, leaned back, and said “if you spill that, I swear to god-“

“I won’t,” Jack promised, looking at him still, “you okay?”

“Wishing you wouldn’t shout about labels at every turn, but fine.” 

Jack snorted, “since when do you care? You don’t even use a label.” 

“Actually, if you’d bothered to ask before propositioning me, you’d know I’m very secure when I call myself bisexual,” Ianto said suddenly and felt more than saw Jack gape at him in surprise. 

Ianto rolled his eyes, ignoring the twinge he got when it aggravated his headache. “You were the first man I fucked, Jack, but unfortunately you are not the first one who fucked me. And I didn’t learn my blowjob skills from Lisa, although she did praise me for a different kind of oral-“ 

“Now  _ that’s  _ an image I like,” Jack said, latching onto the dirty part of that sentence and grinning, just like Ianto thought he would. Ianto smiled back, wondering when he got used to the pang in his chest he felt whenever he thought of Lisa. 

“... I'm sorry if I offend you with all the labels talk,” Jack muttered, taking a bite of his ice cream. “I didn’t know you cared about it.” 

“I mean, I don’t, not as much as I used to.” 

Jack looked intrigued, so Ianto sighed and turned, bringing his feet up under him so he was sideways on the couch. 

“Can I tell you a story?” Ianto asked, and Jack hummed, sucking on the spoon in his mouth obscenely. 

“Depends,” Jack said, pulling the spoon with a  _ pop.  _ “What’s it about?”

“Oh, some brat who used to care way too much about his label. Maybe you’ve heard about him, he’s from a Newport estate with an alcoholic Tad and a troubled Mam-“

“Is his name Ianto Jones, Coffee King?”

“Ooh, good guess,” Ianto said, and they both chuckled. Then Ianto got serious. “The first time I learned what a queer was, I was six, my dad was shouting about it, saying some nasty shit- and I just have this vivid memory of telling my teddy bear that I would never end up that way, never give him  _ that  _ excuse to beat me up.” 

Jack’s eyes went sad, and he reached for Ianto’s hand. Ianto let him take it, shrugging. “Fast forward about 8 years, I’m in my 8th year of school, and I have my first girlfriend.” 

Jack grinned, “bet you were a little charmer.”

“Oh yeah, girls went wild for the skinny estate kid who did his own laundry and never had lunch. I think they thought I was a lost puppy.” 

Jack snorted, and Ianto sighed nostalgically, remembering. “Oh Jack, her name was Melody Grace and I was going to marry her, I swear to god.” 

“Should I be jealous?”

Ianto’s grin turned sad, and he shook his head. “Nope, because in November of that year, a new boy came to my school… Christopher Andrews.” He looked up at Jack, eyes bright, “he was  _ beautiful.  _ Freckles and green eyes and wavy brown hair and glasses- he could draw a perfect Welsh dragon and played basketball after school. And he was the perfect candidate to pick on me, but he  _ didn’t.  _ He started defending me, giving me chunks of his sandwich at lunch- when I broke up with Mel, he was the first person I told.”

Jack stared at him, at the nostalgia in his eyes, he leaned over and touched his cheek. “Please tell me this ends with you and Christopher Andrews sending each other love letters like all star crossed romances.”

Ianto laughed, but it was wet like he was on the verge of tears for a moment. “No, no. This ends with me throwing up in the bathroom, terrified out of my wits because I nodded off in class and dreamed about kissing him. This isn’t the point I was hoping to make with this story but  _ fuck  _ internalized homophobia is awful.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, gently running his fingers over Ianto’s cheek. He could picture it so clearly- little 14-year-old Ianto, face covered in bruises from various bullies, gangly and long-limbed and terrified by a forbidden attraction.

“I never told Chris a word, and he moved away a few years later. But the gates had been opened,” Ianto sighed, “and you know me, I started doing research. I thought- well, if I liked Chris, I must be gay, but I liked girls too, so maybe I wasn’t gay, just confused like Tad always said. I got to the point where I even started to believe my pastor when he said homosexuals were touched by the devil’s hands.” 

Ianto shook his head, looking at Jack and pleading him to understand, “I was confused, I made myself sick on a regular basis because I was so scared- and then, one day, I was 15 going on 16, I was at the library, and I was reading this book about queer theory, and I stumbled across this term-  _ bisexuality.”  _

He looked wistful, “I looked it up in the dictionary. Jack, it was like coming home.” 

Jack didn’t say anything, just took Ianto’s hand and kissed his knuckles in a silent apology. 

“I get what you're saying when you go off about labels, I do,” Ianto said, shrugging, “But… I gotta admit, finally having a label that wasn’t just a slur my Tad spat was a  _ good  _ feeling, Jack.”

“Of course it was,” Jack replied without missing a beat, “I never meant to imply-“

“I know, I know,” Ianto placated, “I know. It’s not the actual labels, it’s the idea of them and how they block out a person’s personality. I do  _ listen  _ when you talk, even if I drown out repeat performances.”

Jack blushed, “I’ve said it that many times?”

“Quaint 21st-century humans and their silly little labels.”

“Hey, I know a few 21st-century humans who aren’t so quaint.” He kissed Ianto’s hand again. “One of them’s even the star of this story I’m hearing,” he looked up at Ianto, “how’s it end?”

“It ends with our newly labeled bisexual hero avoiding getting killed by his father, getting an unhealthy Freddy Mercury obsession for a few years, bravely kissing his first boy in high school, getting a shitty college boyfriend, losing  _ several  _ opportunities for relationships because he can’t pick a bloody side- on another day I’ll give you my Why biphobia sucks lecture.” 

“You can lecture me any time, seriously.” 

Ianto gently laughed and crawled across the couch so he was closer to Jack, voice going soft. “It ends with him meeting a really nice bloke from the 51st century with a loud voice who makes all the bad stuff seem worth it.” 

Jack kissed him, Ianto moved the melted ice cream to the coffee table with one hand, while the other fiddled with Jack’s belt buckle. 

Jack pulled away “does it end in a spectacular, mind-blowing, relationship-affirming blow job?” 

Ianto grinned, already creeping downwards as he undid Jack’s fly, “you know, you really are quite the good guesser, Jack…” 


End file.
